Work Text:
“I know you’re in there, Deuce. Someone would’ve told me if you snuck out the window.” Ace didn’t think he’d ever be spending his Friday afternoon sitting on the floor with his back against the closed door of his housewarden. Granted, until this year, said housewarden was Riddle Rosehearts and Ace couldn’t imagine him ever locking himself in his room. “It’s been days, man.” A pause. “I’m not above picking this lock, you know.”
The only response he received was silence - just like he’d been getting for the past three days. Ace wasn’t a very patient person, anyone who knew him knew that, and if he had to endure one more concerned look from a freshman the threat to pick the lock would no longer be a bluff. They were just concerned about their housewarden, he had to remind himself. Since their own freshman year, Deuce had become a picture-perfect model of everything Riddle had wanted from his successor. He followed the rules and studied hard. Though his grades still sat at the lower end of the average, they were better than they’d ever been. One look at Deuce and you’d think he really was the honors student he was trying so hard to be.
Even more impressive, at least in Ace’s opinion, was the fact that he hadn’t gotten in a meaningless fight since the start of their sophomore year. That was, until a few days ago. Though, if you asked Ace and, most likely, the freshman Deuce had been defending, this one didn’t count as a meaningless fight. Sure, Deuce had gotten a little carried away, but he did that with everything - it was just part of who he was. Ace had known Deuce for two and a half years and he had never seen his best friend half-ass a single thing - it was something he admired about the other boy, though anyone would be hard pressed to get him to admit it. They’d be even harder pressed to get him to admit it was the first reason Ace had developed a crush on his friend.
“I swear I am going to challenge you for housewarden if you don’t open this door. Then you’ll have to do what I say.” Ace’s statement was punctuated by the sound of his head falling back against the door behind him - a thunk with a dull pain to accompany it. “Seriously, dude, stop making me worry about you.” The last part was mumbled more to himself and Ace hoped Deuce couldn’t hear it through the closed door.
It was a testament to how lost Ace was in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear any movement inside the room before the door was moving behind him. It was a testament to his determination that he followed through with the door as it opened into the room and fell onto his back, nothing else. No sooner than his back had hit the ground was Ace back up on his feet, standing in front of a timid looking Deuce.
“Some warning woulda been nice, man.” Luckily, Ace knew better than anyone that the best way to fix a timid Deuce was to antagonize him. The housewarden still didn’t say anything but the uncertainty on his face was quickly washed away with a glare, pointed more at the ground than at Ace, but he’d take what he could get. “But hey! You’re still alive! Mind if I come in?” Without waiting for an answer to his question, Ace gently brushed Deuce aside and walked into the room. He only heard a heavy sigh as he plopped himself down on the edge of Deuce’s bed, leaving his friend to close the door behind him.
Deuce remained silent as he joined Ace, sitting down next to him with his gaze locked firmly on the bruised hands in his lap. One of his thumbs ran over the dried blood on his knuckles, picking at the scabs that had formed - scabs that he’d clearly been picking away frequently if there was still so much blood. His shoulders jolted as Ace let out a groan and abruptly stood up. Even still, he kept his focus firmly on his hands as his vice housewarden walked off into the bathroom and came back with Deuce’s first aid kit - all without a word in response to Deuce’s silence.
“At least let me patch those up for you, dude. It’s been days, you’ll get an infection.” Without a word of warning, Ace had brought the desk chair to the edge of the bed, sat down and pulled Deuce’s damaged hands into his lap. Ace took note of Deuce’s mouth parting as if he wanted to say something, though it shut just as quickly in a grimace as Ace dabbed rubbing alcohol onto the wounds, reopening them to clean them out. The room rested in a comfortable silence while Ace worked, save for the sounds of Deuce sucking air in through his teeth when Ace pushed too hard or picked a piece of glass out of the broken skin. The wounds were worse than they should have been from just a fist fight three days ago, and the broken mirror in the bathroom didn’t leave much to speculation. Silence stayed nestled around them until Deuce’s knuckles were wrapped and the bloody tissues had been thrown into the trash.
“Look, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Ace pushed the chair back roughly to its spot by the desk before refilling the empty space next to Deuce on the bed. “But, you know, nobody cares that you got into a fight. Anyone would’ve wanted to punch that kid, trust me.” A soft chuckle escaped Ace’s throat. “We’re just worried about you, Deucey.”
He’d hoped to have a stronger finish by the time he stopped talking, but those thoughts were thrown out the window the moment Deuce’s eyes met his. Bright, teal, bloodshot eyes stared back at him and Ace had to suppress a gasp. He hadn’t seen Deuce cry since freshman year, and that had been over some dumb nightmare the other boy hadn’t even been able to remember when he’d woken up. Yet, here he was, tears still puddling in his eyes, a tear track running through the dark spade on his cheek. His expression was dark as he glared at Ace, though Ace could still see the uncertainty dancing behind his eyes.
“I know, it’s stupid to be this upset.” His eyes flickered down again, but only for a second. “It was just one fight and I’m a dumbass, right?”
“Well, I won’t debate that.” Ace only scooted closer to bump his shoulder into Deuce’s to show that he was kidding, no other reason. Deuce leveled him with another glare. This one was more familiar, it was the same glare he got when he teased him about his flamingo feeding outfit. It made him smile. “Seriously though, you’ve made more progress than you can undo with a dumb fight, you know that right?” Ace couldn’t explain, even to himself, what was going on in his head that possessed him to reach out and brush Deuce’s bangs away from his eyes, leaving his hand cupping Deuce’s cheek.
Tear-stained eyes grew wide and that was the only warning Ace received before he was yanked into a tight hug. It was an awkward angle, both of them still sitting on the bed, but Ace found himself melting into it as his hand relocated itself to the back of Deuce’s head.
“Thanks.” The housewarden’s voice was soft and Ace responded only in an equally soft hum before pressing his lips to the side of Deuce’s head. For a brief second, Deuce stiffened and Ace feared he’d made the worst mistake of his life. He would’ve pulled from the hug and run out of the room as fast as he could if it weren’t for Deuce’s arms tightening around his shoulders. A nose nuzzled into his neck, accompanied by another hum that vibrated through Ace’s spine.
They’d have to talk about this later, definitely. But, for now, Ace was perfectly content to stay where they were with his arms locked tight around Deuce’s waist. He’d stay until Deuce was free of any bad feelings - and he couldn’t find it in himself to care how long that took. He’d at least stay until he saw Deuce smile again, even if it took another three days.